Blaze (Big D Escort Service Book 2)

by Willow Summers

  A strange glint flared in his eyes. He tilted his head like he was trying to crack his neck. “No, I won’t judge you, but I can’t promise I won’t seek revenge or retribution if someone has wronged you.”

  She laughed and flung her backpack, which had served as her suitcase, on the bed. “That’s sweet, kinda. More vigilante-style weird than sweet, but there is that hint of—”

  “Janie, please,” he cut in, his voice deep and rough. “This suspense isn’t awesome.”

  “Kind of like one of Ethan’s horrible surprises, huh? Where he surprises you with something totally unwelcome, hoping it’ll broaden your mind, but what it really does is make you want to punch him?”

  “Yes. Exactly. Tell me.”

  She sighed as she opened her backpack. “Fine. Look. It’s not a big deal, like I said. This guy I know flies me down to his estate in Arizona in his private jet, and I paint there for a week. That’s it.”

  “He?”

  “Yeah, he.” She pulled out her clothes and sorted through the dirty and clean stuff, glancing up through her eyelashes when her panties made an appearance. She hid them away.

  “He flies you down…” Dave said each word as if he was mulling over its meaning. “In his private jet…to his house in Arizona…for a week…so you can paint there. Is this a romantic interest?”

  She barked out a laugh. “Definitely not, no. I think he’s gay, to be honest. Though I’ve never asked.”

  He moved inside the room, his movements graceful despite his size. He was probably excellent at sports. “So…a potentially gay man flies you down to his estate, at his expense?”

  “Yep.”

  “So you can paint. He is, in essence, paying for paintings—he just wants you on hand to do them?”

  She groaned and threw her dirty clothes into the hamper. “He pays to watch me paint.”

  He started to repeat her, trying to fit that piece into the overall puzzle, but they’d be here all day if she didn’t give him a nudge in the right direction.

  So she just came out with it, judgment be damned. “In the nude.”

  His mouth snapped shut and his eyes blazed. The muscles on his six-foot-two frame went taut.

  She stared with wide eyes, wondering if that look was where he’d gotten the nickname used for him on the Big Dick website—Blaze. Because the danger, and fire, and intense manliness of him was as hot as hell, especially since she knew the sudden heat stemmed from a place of genuinely caring about her well-being.

  “He pays me ten grand to do it,” she added. Because really, that was the most important part.

  His chest rose with a deep breath and his eyes delved into hers. “And you are okay with all of this? This doesn’t bother you, or your lack of overall funds doesn’t force you to do…this?”

  She tucked her backpack into the closet. “I’m okay with the nude thing. He doesn’t touch me or touch himself as he watches. I’ve never sensed a spark of lust, and he doesn’t make any advances or sexual remarks. So as far as that goes, whatever. I’m not ashamed to show my body. Plus, as I said, I really think he’s gay.”

  “But?” he asked, not having moved or relaxed. His eyes still danced with wildfire.

  Heat licked her core in response. Which was a reaction she hadn’t been expecting.

  She fanned her face. “You need to simmer down.”

  “Afraid I can’t at the moment. But?”

  “But…he is creepy as all hell. Not sexual creepy, but just…creepy. It’s hard to explain.”

  “That’s not the real issue, is it?”

  It was seriously the worst superpower, this ability to read her.

  “Fine.” She put the clothes she hadn’t worn away. “No, it’s not. I hate painting in front of people. Any people. When I paint, I don’t notice if I am clothed or not. I don’t notice my surroundings. I am lost in my world. It is strangely vulnerable, and I hate people seeing it. I also hate them seeing the finished product. I’m confident in most things, but that isn’t one of them. Okay? Happy?”

  He finally shifted and his shoulders dropped. “So even if you were clothed, you’d still be uncomfortable?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re willing to ignore that for ten grand?”

  She turned toward him in disbelief. “Are you kidding? Obviously I am. Here, I’ll give you a rundown of my life.” She sighed in unease. She hated admitting all this out loud, but there was no way he was going to leave her alone unless she gave him more to chew on. “My brain turns words around on me. Sometimes they just don’t make sense. Reading is hard, and even simple math problems are tough. I also have a problem understanding quick instructions. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad case of dyslexia. Add in my ADD, and my overall…flightiness, I guess you would call it, and I’m not a contender for long-term jobs. The crappy jobs I’ve had usually involve taking money. Which gets problematic when I mix up the numbers. I’ve been trying to get into some art galleries, but no one is interested. I probably need to get representation, which won’t be fun. Madison isn’t coming back. She’ll marry Colton, I can tell. She’ll do anything for that guy. So I can’t keep pretending I’m doing her a favor by watching her place. I need to start paying rent. Long story short, I need money. Now I have some to tide me over until I can hopefully find a roommate and sell a painting or two.”

  “How often do you do this?”

  “I’ve turned down a couple of his invitations, but this was my fourth time, I think. Since I was twenty-one.”

  “Huh.” He shifted, a small crease forming on his brow. “And then he keeps the work, I assume.”

  “Wow. You are really worried about the details of this transaction. No, he doesn’t keep the work, save one painting. I always paint a male nude for him to keep.”

  “A… Wait.” He braced his hands on his hips and cocked his head, that forehead crease turning into a furrow. “I can’t wrap my head around all this. So…he flies you out. Has you paint in the nude. Pays you ten grand. And only wants a painting of a naked guy in return?”

  More laughter bubbled up through her middle. “Well, when you break it down like that…yeah. It’s weird. Do you know why?”

  “I’m doing a piss-poor job of figuring that out, actually.”

  “Because he’s super creepy, that’s why. I told you, it’s hard to explain his weirdness.”

  Dave shook his head. “I don’t like that you are forced to paint in the nude, to be honest.”

  “I don’t care?”

  A grin lit his features. “It’s like you are prostituting yourself.”

  “Well, you would know, whore.”

  The grin turned into one of those million-dollar smiles before he broke down into laughter. “There is that, yeah. Hard to throw stones when I whore it up all over town. I went to San Francisco last month for an especially big gig for a woman in a loveless marriage with a billionaire. She paid me a ridiculous amount of money to sleep with her. Like…that’s gross. But I’d wear glitter if they paid me to. Glitter, Janie. Clearly that is way worse than your thing.”

  She nodded solemnly. “Glitter would definitely be way worse, yes. That stuff gets everywhere. In your cracks, in your hair…”

  “Right. Exactly. Nailed it.”

  She leveled him with a look. “Do not tell anyone. Madison would try to shower me in money if she found out. I don’t want that. She already does enough for me.”

  “I get it. Your Creepy Rich Guy secret is safe with me.” She headed back toward the kitchen, and he followed. “Question: those nudes. Who are they?”

  “Just random guys with their dicks hanging out.”

  “Uh huh. Just…random guys?”

  “Not you, Mr. Ego.”

  A knock sounded at the door as she crossed the living room. She paused with her hands out, like she’d been caught in the middle of a burglary.

  She remembered what he’d said earlier. “What did you do to Atticus?” she asked as she crossed to the door. “And this wouldn�
��t be him, right?”

  “I threatened him, manhandled him, and stalked through his house. I gave his throat a shake, too. I doubt that’s him. But if it is, I’ll take care of it.”

  She shook her head and smiled, not at all worried about his low and rough tone. She was certain that, unlike Atticus, Dave’s violence would never be directed at her.

  She swung open the door and her expression fell. Oh shit.

  Four

  The crazy little lady had some skeletons in that closet of hers. Tame skeletons compared to his, but skeletons nonetheless. For some reason, it made him feel more normal that he and his friends weren’t the only ones skirting the lines of social norms for money.

  Although she got way more money for her gigs than they did for theirs. She had to be a hell of an artist. That was some serious dough for the guy to lay down for a painting of a naked guy, even if he got to watch a beautiful naked woman paint it. He could pay a lot less and get a lot more.

  Dave moved so he could see who was at the door.

  A nerdy-looking dude with a stained shirt and messy hair stood outside the apartment.

  “Hey, Joe,” Janie said, leaving the door only opened a crack. “I still don’t have weed for you to borrow.”

  “No, I’m good on that. Do you want a toke?” Joe, probably in his early twenties, gave her a hazy smile.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Cool. Hey. Did you know there’s a bunch of art out here?” He followed his question with a vaguely pointed finger.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” Janie glanced back at Dave, and he saw an uncomfortable expression cross her face for the first time.

  He was walking forward before he knew it. Sure, he should mind his own business now. She was safe, all was well, he should let it go.

  But curiosity wasn’t just for girls named Pandora.

  “It’s heavy. I’ll get it later.” Janie put out a hand to stop Dave.

  “I’m a man. I lift things in order to impress girls. That’s my job.” He put a hand to her shoulder and lightly moved her to the side.

  “Art isn’t heavy,” Joe said, scratching his head. “What, is it made of iron or something?” His eyes widened and his gaze zipped back and forth across Dave’s torso. He took a step back. “Hey, bro.”

  “Hey.” Dave looked around the doorway, immediately finding the art. The canvases against the wall were of various sizes, and they were individually covered in brown sheets instead of the usual paper that would have needed to be ripped off.

  At least the iron comment didn’t sound so stupid, since they were covered. Still, though, Joe wasn’t a rocket scientist, that was clear.

  “Just leave them.” Janie stepped out. Her voice screamed uncomfortable. “I can grab them later. It’s fine. No one will take them. This apartment complex isn’t known for its art appreciators.”

  “I like art,” Joe said slowly.

  “Whadda we got here?” Dave said as he picked up the first painting. The brown sheet fluttered to the ground, not secured. He was about to ask about it when he laid eyes on the canvas.

  He froze.

  “No, don’t—”

  Dave turned his back to Janie, preventing her from returning the sheet. His mouth dropped open.

  Joe said, “Whoa, shit.”

  Whoa shit was right.

  Three feet by three feet, the painting wasn’t much in the way of a picture. A simple landscape in the desert. But the colors, and the way they flowed across the canvas—hinting at shape and melting together—made him feel like he was floating in a dream. It took his breath away. He couldn’t stop staring at it.

  “That’s wicked.” Joe crowded in. “Can we see the others?”

  “It’s nothing. They’re nothing.” Janie stepped around him, still trying to cover the painting he held.

  Dave turned his back on her again and handed off the desert painting to Joe. He grabbed the next one and pulled back the sheet. Two people holding hands this time, their faces pointed at each other. The couple seemed so happy. In heaven. The emotions emanated off the canvas, but for the life of him, he couldn’t pinpoint why. They weren’t even smiling.

  The next was just as outstanding. And the next. Every scene transported him into a different set of emotions, invoking feelings deep down and pulling them to the surface.

  Shivers coated his body. Her talent was indescribable. All she needed was a venue. A gallery in a city where people had money. Her work would sell itself. He didn’t know anything about art, but he knew that.

  “Atticus must’ve hated that you could do this,” he said without thinking, remembering the piece of crap painting in the ex’s living room.

  “Can you take them inside now, please?” Janie’s little hands were pulling at his arm. Maybe they had been for a while.

  “Can I have one of these?” Joe held a nude painting of a woman sitting on a stone bench and staring off into the sunset. Only the top of her butt showed, the rest turned away, including her face, but Dave somehow knew it was a self-portrait. The model’s pose—serene yet sensual—screamed Janie.

  His cock stiffened.

  This image was how Janie felt when she painted. He’d bet his life on it. And if he was right, that man in Arizona was getting more than his money’s worth. Watching her paint in the nude would be the most erotic experience imaginable—and Dave had a hell of an imagination.

  He snatched the painting away from Joe. “Not this one.”

  “But that’s the best one,” Joe whined.

  Dave draped the sheet over it. For some reason, he didn’t want anyone else seeing it. “Put that in your room.” He handed it off to Janie.

  “I’m going to put all of them in my room, actually.” She replaced the covers. “Are you going to help carry, or are you tired from snooping?”

  “Snooping never makes me tired.” He carefully picked up the rest and headed inside.

  “What about that desert one?” Joe followed. “It’s a trip. I bet dropping acid and staring at it would create, like, an Alice in Wonderland situation, don’t you think?”

  Janie sighed and shook her head, pausing near her bedroom door. She glanced back at Dave. “Give him the desert one. Otherwise he’ll never let it go.”

  “But you can sell these.” Dave didn’t move to comply. “You need a starting collection. The desert one fits in with the theme of the others.”

  She smiled at him, a placating sort of expression. She was silently calling him dumb.

  He narrowed his eyes. “No, I don’t know what I’m saying, but it seems like it fits.”

  She laughed and continued into her room. “It’s not even remotely in the same theme.” She put the covered canvas in her closet.

  He very nearly rushed forward to grab it out again. It seemed sacrilege to hide such a provocative piece of art.

  She came for the rest of them as Joe wandered into her room.

  “No.” Dave shook his head and pointed for Joe to get out. “You don’t come in here. Ever.”

  “Dude, are you her boyfriend or something? Why are you so territorial?” Joe edged away but didn’t leave.

  “He’s insane, that’s why.” Janie rolled her eyes and took the paintings two at a time to lean against the wall. She grabbed the desert one.

  “I’m her friend. Friends chase creeps away from other friends.” Dave shifted, blocking the way from her to Joe. “But seriously, you need a collection for a gallery. That one is great. You shouldn’t give it away.”

  “I can paint more. Mr. Creepy Rich Guy buys me everything I need and lets me keep the supplies. They’re in the car.” She paused, and that level stare was back. “Because I didn’t have enough hands to carry everything, and Mr. Creepy Whorebag Guy was waiting in my room so I couldn’t do more trips.”

  “Dooode, that’s fucked up,” Joe said.

  “But anyway.” She shoved another painting into the closet forcefully, with a lack of care that made Dave wince. “I need to get an agent. That’s the best way to ne
gotiate with the galleries, I’ve heard. Maybe even to get my work in galleries. I just don’t know how to get one.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a matter of asking Google.” Dave grimaced as she edged around him and handed the desert painting over to Joe. It felt a lot like sacrilege. “Then you follow the directions and voila. Agent. It shouldn’t be hard for you, Janie. I might not know much about themes, but I can see talent. Clearly you have a lot of it.”

  “Remember that part about my issue with reading?” She pushed Joe along the hallway and toward the door. “I mean, I can do it, but it’s frustrating and takes longer than it should. I feel like an idiot. I’ve thought about getting a better computer, though. One that dictates. Once I have that, I think I can work something out. Or maybe swallow my pride and finally let Madison help me. She’s been asking to for forever.”

  “Thanks, Janie.” Joe stared at the painting in wonder as he meandered out of the room. They trailed after him.

  “Why don’t you like asking for help?” Dave asked as Janie closed the door behind Joe.

  “Why doesn’t anyone?” She moved into the kitchen.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really thought about it.” He settled onto a stool at the island as she peered into the cabinets.

  “What do you want to drink?” she asked.

  “Don’t care. How ’bout I look the info up for you? I’m not super smart or anything, but I can read and make notes easy enough. Then you can just call people or do whatever you’re supposed to do.”

  The bottle of gin made a soft thunk when it hit the countertop. “Thanks. I’ll get my things together and ask you when I need help.”

  “Yeah, but you just said…” He rolled his eyes at how dense he was. “Cute.”

  She grinned and took down a mixer.

  He leaned forward on the counter. “You’re going to get my help. Just know that.”

  “Oooh.” She mock-shivered. “I’m so scared.”

  “Weird response.”

  “With the stuff you come out with, do you ever hear anything but weird responses?” She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Anyway, I have a plan. First, I’ll get a roommate. Then I’ll get a computer. Then I’ll do the research and figure stuff out. I might need to prepare a specific portfolio to get an agent, in which case, I want to hold off painting until then. Art supplies are expensive. I don’t want to waste them.”